“I…” My voice faltered as the pain ebbed away, replaced by a sense of guilt so strong it was suffocating. “I shouldn’t think about that.”
The knowing curve of his lips made my stomach twist. “You’re right. Focus on what’s here, Vivian. On what’s real.”
His voice smothered the lingering whispers of my own thoughts, pulling me back to him. It felt… easier, less painful, to let him guide me.
“I’m here to protect you,” Izo continued as he cleaned the wound with practiced care. “To give you the life you deserve. Not like The Shadow.” His tone darkened, his silver eyes flashing dangerously.
“He’s a monster, Vivian. Do you know what he’s done? The lives he’s destroyed, the people he’s trampled to build his empire? He’s no savior. He’s no hero. He’s just another tyrant hiding behind shadows and illusions.”
His words sank into my thoughts like seeds planting themselves deep in fertile soil.
But beneath the haze, a memory stirred. Raffaele, his voice rough with emotion, telling me he would never let anyone hurt me again.
The pain came back, sharp and sudden. I winced, gripping the edge of the counter.
Izo’s gaze snapped to me, his hand tightening around mine. “Vivian,” he said, his tone soft but commanding. “Look at me.”
I obeyed, my eyes locking onto his.
“You don’t need to think about him anymore,” he said. “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you now.”
The ache in my chest eased, and the memories dulled until they felt distant and blurry.
“I know,” I said quietly, though the words felt foreign in my mouth.
Izo smiled, a gentle, almost paternal expression that made the warmth in my chest flare again. It wasn’t real—Iknewit wasn’t—but it didn’t matter. It bloomed anyway, spreading through me like wildfire.
When he was finished cleaning the wound, he reached for a small jar of salve. The scent of sea herbs and something medicinal filled the air as he smoothed the ointment over my palm.
“You’ve been through so much. But you’re strong, Vivian. Stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”
His words sent a strange mix of pride and shame coursing through me. I didn’t want to believe him, but the compulsion twisted my emotions, making them impossible to untangle.
When he finished wrapping my hand in a clean bandage, he stood and offered me his arm. “Come, let’s get you comfortable.”
I slid off the counter, my legs unsteady as I followed him back into the bedroom. He led me to a sitting area in the corner with plush chairs and a low table.
I sank into one of the chairs, the exhaustion of the day settling over me like a heavy blanket. Izo sat across from me, his posture relaxed, his expression unreadable.
Before either of us could speak, a sharp knock at the door broke the silence.
Izo’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze flicking toward the sound. “Stay here.”
As he rose and moved toward the door, I sat back, resting my other hand on the bandaged one.
This isn’t right,that small voice taunted.
I ignored it, focusing instead on Izo’s retreating figure. For now, it was easier to let him guide me.
The knock at the door had barely subsided when it swung open, revealing two men in silver robes. Their faces were hard, their postures stiff with tension.
“Lord Maren,” one of them said. “A word.”
Izo’s silver eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression remained composed. “What is it, Elder?” he asked, his tone cold and authoritative.
The elder glanced at me, his lip curling slightly before he continued. “Some of us have concerns about your methods.”
Izo tilted his head, his lips curving. “Oh? Do enlighten me.”
